


entomophobia

by Larryslovewins



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Bakery, Drugs, M/M, harrys mother is Grace because i have too much respect for anne, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 13:18:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larryslovewins/pseuds/Larryslovewins
Summary: 17 year old Harry has sunk so low that he points a gun at a stranger for a bit of cash. Things don't go quite well as his phobia of bugs takes him over.





	entomophobia

**Author's Note:**

> So I had the first chapter posted, but as I re-read it, i felt like it was just awful. I felt like it was moving too fast. So I rewrote it and slowed down, just explaining Harry's situation at home and why he eventually decides to point a gun at someone before I'd get into hm and Louis meeting, if anyone likes it of course lol x

Harry jammed the key in the old lock for a bit, pressing his lips together in frustration until the front door finally unlocked and opened with a quiet squeak. He stepped inside the sad apartment he spent most of the nights in and kicked the door shut, feeling heavy weight on his chest as soon as he did so. It was just a toxic place to be at and he'd leave if he only could. If he only had a place to go.

He raised an eyebrow at the smell that hit him in the face after a moment, shaking his head weakly as he quickly realized it was alcohol. He had small hope that it was his mother's boyfriend Jim drinking, but the hope was crushed in no time once he turned the lights on. There she was, on the couch, completely wasted after relapsing for the third time that month. She always promised it would stop and it never did. She couldn't even last longer than a week. Of course he had tried sending her to rehab, but professionals were pretty expensive and free services always gave up on her. She was just hopeless.

He walked to the kitchen, keeping his shoes on, which were so small and uncomfortable on his feet, not talking about the fact that they were falling apart, since the floor was a mess. There were dirty clothes, bloody rags, empty bottles, needles and a bunch of other crap. He cleaned every now and then, but it didn't matter. By the next day it would look like someone dumped a trash bag out anyways. He opened the secondhand fridge, stuffing it with canned soup he'd bought on the way home from work. He hated it, he really couldn't stand the taste, but that's all he could afford. It was cheap and didn't expire fast. With his job at a small bakery and another one at an ice cream stand, he didn't make too much sadly. Barely enough for rent and food.

He could hear his mother have a pity moment, but he just stayed silent as she whimpered about how sick she felt and how no one loved her. He glanced at the woman as she sobbed into the stained couch, a bit disgusted and somewhat mad at her. He was the unloved one. He was the one who should be spending days crying, but there he was, working two jobs to keep a roof above their heads. What was she doing? Drinking and getting into trouble. Sweet.

"Alright, mum. Let's get you to bed," he muttered under his breath as he waked over to her, gently grabbing her arm and helping her sit up while she somewhat protested for a moment. She continued to cry as they made their way down the hallway and into the room, leaning against Harry the whole time. He laid her down on the mattress and tuck her in a bit, a frown on his face as he pushed the hair out of her face. He didn't know why he didn't just leave her. His life would be much easier on the streets, or in an orphanage. He'd definitely be in one if anyone knew about the situation at his home, but over the years he'd learned to pretend he was happy and that everything was okay.

He slowly left the room and ran a hand through his curls, walking back to the couch. He covered it with a sheet since it was ridiculously dirty before he sat down, closing his eyes for a moment. Around this time he'd usually turn the TV on and watch one of the two channels it would play- news or music, but a few weeks ago Jim had smashed it during an argument, leaving him with nothing to distract him from the reality.

Harry's eyes opened as he heard screaming from the other room, reaching up to hold his head in his hands. He'd been through this so many times, but he could never get used to the seizures Grace had after drinking. He began to pull at his hair a bit, just wishing this would end for once.

He wondered how his sister was doing. He hadn't seen her in years. She used to live with them. Actually, they used to be such a perfect little family. Then, when he was about four, Grace found new friends, met Jim. Everything went downhill from there. As she slowly turned into the alcoholic she was now, their biological father left and took Gemma with him. They'd seen each other a few times after that, but eventually they stopped coming over. He wondered why didn't he also take him away.

His thoughts went away when he heard the front door open, it could mean just one thing. Lovely Jim was home. He watched quietly as the man stomped inside with his muddy boots, slamming the door shut and immediately going to the fridge. "This shit again?" he growled and grabbed the can of soup just to smash it onto the ground. That's why he barely cleaned around there. Pointless.

"If you want something else, buy it yourself. I don't have any money," he sighed and glanced away from him, slowly laying down and closing his eyes.

"You're going to talk back at me? You think you can talk back at me?" Jim huffed as he walked over to the couch, grabbing the hood of Harry's sweater and pulling him up. "You really think you're someone, don't you? It's about time that you open your eyes and shut your mouth," he shoved him back down, shaking his head. "So useless." And that was his regular Thursday. Seven hours at school, eight at work and then coming home to this mess.

Harry didn't respond in any way, he simply curled up on the sofa and waited for Jim to leave him alone, knowing it was the best way to get him to leave him alone. He used to fight back, even at six years old, but eventually learned to take it quietly and get out of it with barely any bruises, sometimes none. After a bit Jim left, joining Grace in the bedroom.

Falling asleep wasn't too difficult, the long days of work always exhausted him and he ended up passing out in no time.

-

Harry pulled the apron over his head once he got to work, leaving it untied as he tucked his curls under the beanie he wore most of the time. He grabbed a paper towel and went to wipe at the tables to clean up a bit, smiling at Betsy, the owner of the bakery, when she walked over. "Hello," he greeted her, but didn't get the response he was expecting. "Harry, darling, we need to talk." He didn't like the tone. He was pretty positive that he knew what was coming. 

"Uh, sure," he nodded and turned to her, smile kind of faded, but still there. "What is it, ma'am?" he asked softly as he stood with his hands behind his back, raising an eyebrow at the lady. "The business isn't doing as well as it used to, I'm sure you've noticed. I can't afford to have three employees anymore and honestly, you're not the best worker we've had. I love you, Harry, you know that, you're a great guy, but this is your last shift."

Great. Everything's fucking great.

"No, you know, this isn't," he chuckled as he pulled the apron off, tossing it on the counter with a frown. "My last shift was yesterday," he left with that said, not able to believe it that Betsy would do him like that. Nicki was way worse of an employee than he was. She didn't properly wash the dishes or knead the dough well.

He didn't want to go home early. He didn't want to walk onto his mother drinking or what not. He just walked by the lake instead, thinking of what to do. Finding a job was really difficult, especially with no access to internet and still underage. It was a pain in the ass to get the jobs he had, he literally walked up to every business in a row and just kept asking if they needed workers. He got lucky with the bakery, getting a job there a bit less than a year ago.

Now he was back at the start again. His ice cream stand didn't make him nearly enough for rent. He didn't even know how he, a kid could be responsible for paying the rent. Years ago he'd been saving up his money for a while with the harmless job he used to have as the newspaper boy. He was saving up for something silly, like clothes or so, he couldn't remember. He just knew that one day, half of it went to the landlord. He clearly remembers that day. His mother was at the door, crying because she was missing like a hundred bucks. He didn't even think twice as he rushed to get his stash and gave his mother all he had, making it enough to get through one month with a bit of cash left for them. Somehow his mother passed on the responsibility onto him and he'd been taking care of it for maybe two years now. The rent got only higher with time and the apartment got only worse. He had no clue of what to do.

Like that, with the awful news, he headed home eventually.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
